


le jeu de l’amour

by ohpleaselarry



Category: CrankGameplays - Fandom, Crankiplier - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Butt Plugs, Daddy Kink, Denial, Dirty Talk, Fingering, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Kissing, Lingerie, M/M, Restraining, Sexual Tension, Smut, Teasing, blowjob, but like lowkey, handjob, like a lot, sex buddies kind of, sub/dom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:06:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24942799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohpleaselarry/pseuds/ohpleaselarry
Summary: Seemingly out of the blue, Mark has a wet dream about Ethan. It’s only downhill from there, as his dreams suddenly become reality in the form of a chaotic game of gay chicken.What’s the worst that could happen?
Relationships: Mark Fischbach/Ethan Nestor, Markiplier/CrankGameplays
Comments: 22
Kudos: 553





	le jeu de l’amour

**Author's Note:**

> Okay okay okay so this entire fucking fic was inspired off of this tiny moment in this video (https://youtu.be/2twsS6Dv9gw) timestamp 3:42:00, also known as the daddy conversation. 
> 
> Need I explain more? Basically if the “DADDY KINK” makes you uncomfortable, I’d say avoid this fic lmao. This is probably the wackest and equally the smuttiest au ive posted of this ship so far lmao and it probably won’t be the worst with the road I’m headed down. 
> 
> This is probably the quickest I’ve ever pumped out a fic. I literally got the idea yesterday. Started writing at 11pm, ended up staying up until 6am writing it, woke up at 12, edited it, and now I’m posting it. This is my excuse for how wack this fic is lmao my all nighter writing is weirder than usual. 
> 
> Enjoy you dirty fuckers 😈
> 
> Song for this fic: buonanotte e sogni d’oro - Artemio li fonti

Moving in with some friends in a so called “gamer house” is either a great or a fucking terrible idea, and he still doesn’t know which option it is on day three. 

“Hey.” It’s Ethan, stepping into his room without knocking. He steps up to Mark’s bed and basically dives into it, sighing loudly. 

“Tired?” Mark asks, continuing to unpack one of his last boxes. He had the least amount of stuff of everyone. Probably just because he doesn’t keep knick knacks or random things. Most of his boxes just consisted of recording stuff. 

“Yeah. Got my pc set up and I wanted to record but I feel like if I go back to my room and see those boxes again I’m gonna kill someone.” 

“There’s boxes in here.” Mark laughs. Ethan lifts his head and rolls his eyes dramatically. 

“Well those aren’t  _my_ boxes, so I don’t have to worry about them!” He explains, then he sits up and settles onto the floor with him, watching him pull out clothes. He’d probably have less clothes if he didn’t own so many merch prototypes and cloak designs. Ethan starts to help out, putting shirts and hoodies on hangers, but then he gets bored and decides to start trying things on, and by the end of the box he’s decked out in Markiplier and cloak clothing from the beanie on his head to the socks on his feet. He stands up and poses in front of the full length mirror that came with the room. 

“Want a free ad? Here, I’ll pose.” Ethan hands over his phone with a grin. Mark raises an eyebrow and puts the phone in portrait mode, leaning low on the floor to get a good angle. 

They take about twenty different pictures, and by the end of it Ethan is straddling a chair, tongue out as he looks over his shoulder in a mock sexy pose, and Mark is laughing too much to take a steady picture. 

“I missed this.” Ethan mumbles once they quiet down. Mark is breaking down the empty boxes while the boy scrolls through the pictures to pick one for Instagram. 

“Posing for photos?”

“No, hanging out.” 

Mark looks to him, finding he’s flushed in the cheeks, actively staring down at his phone like it’s the most interesting thing in the world. 

“We hang out all the time.” 

“No, we’re too busy to just do stupid shit like this. With the channel, we were goofing off together all the time. Now it’s just..going to the movies or dinner with everyone. I just mean, we don’t hang out alone as much as we did with unus annus.” 

Mark feels the same. He and Ethan were pretty good friends before, but doing the channel together really brought them closer in a way that he can’t really explain. A year ago, he would’ve laughed this conversation off, or Ethan might not have said it at all in the first place. 

“Well..we can now.” Mark says, setting down the boxes and checking the time. It’s getting pretty damn late. 

“Wanna watch a movie?” He asks, smiling. Ethan looks to him, finally. He swings his legs like he’s shy. 

“Yeah, okay.”

-

The next day, someone suggests Never Have I Ever. 

“Are we in high school?” Mark asks, raising an eyebrow at the group. 

“Fuck off, it’ll be fun.” Tyler says with a grin. Pam, Kathryn, and Ethan all seem to agree, so they settle into a circle around the living room and pour shots. Mark gets orange juice, of course. 

“Never have I ever..had sex  _not_ on a bed.” Pam starts off. 

“Damn, immediately into the nitty gritty? I like it.” Kathryn laughs. A few of them lower fingers and drink. Mark tries to think of what to do for his turn as Tyler goes. 

“Never have I ever cheated on a test.” 

Everyone drinks. 

“Damn, really?” Tyler laughs as they all look around at each other guiltily. 

“Okay..never have I ever masturbated on a tour bus.” Kathryn says, grinning as she looks around at all of them. 

Ethan drinks. 

“Ethan! My precious tour!” Mark cries in dismay. The boy wiggles his eyebrows and gulps down the alcohol. 

“There’s a reason I never got a boner on stage.” He says, grinning devishly. They all look to Mark, now.

“That was one time! It’s not my fault we’d slept in the bus for a few days. I didn’t have any alone time in a hotel!” Mark rambles on in defence. They all laugh and Ethan dives into the story, telling all about how they’d just finished their “sexy” dance off section and Mark got a damn boner right on stage. It was humiliating, and thankfully nobody seemed to have gotten any clear video of it, but he’s been given shit ever since. 

Ethan is animated as he talks, cheeks pink from the alcohol and eyes sparkly with the story. 

A gamer house was a good idea, Mark decides. This is nice. It’s really nice. 

“So anyway, never have I ever..” 

“Three more steps.” Mark says, arm around Ethan’s waist so he doesn’t trip and crack his skull open or something. 

The boy is humming something, seeming to be in some sort of glossy happy stage of drunk. Those shots were fucked, apparently. 

He guides his friend over to his bed, and the boy just flops down and doesn’t move. 

Mark considers leaving him like that, but he puts his hesitancy aside and pulls the boy to sit up, and helps him out of his hoodie. 

“Mark,” Ethan sighs, smiling up at him. He sounds like he plans to say more, but he just lies down with his hands stretched above his head and sighs. 

“You’re gonna have such a hangover tomorrow. I think at some point they started to say things they’d know would make you drink.” Mark chats to distract them both as he casually pops the button on Ethan’s jeans and helps him out of those as well. The boy just lifts his legs and doesn’t seem to notice any weirdness in this situation. 

“You sleeping with me?” Ethan slurs the question, climbing under the duvet when Mark pulls it back. He doesn’t know what meaning of ‘sleeping’ he’s asking about. Either way, it’s the same answer. 

“No, Ethan,” he replies as he lifts away, reaching over to yank the bedside lamp off. Then the only light in the room is the one from the hallway filtering in through the door, and the slight dim tint from the streetlights outside, “goodnight.”

“Aren’t you gonna kiss me goodnight?” The boy asks, reaching out to catch his wrist as he pulls away, but missing terribly. Even in the dark, Mark can see his funny frown. 

“You ask all your friends that when you’re drunk?” Mark asks, chuckling at his antics. He’s been around him drunk before. He gets a tad handsy. It’s pretty endearing. 

“Nah. Jus’ you.” Ethan mumbles, sounding half asleep. Mark gulps and leans over him and presses a kiss to the boy’s hair. 

“Night.” He whispers while he’s there. He gets a happy little hum in reply. 

Smiling, Mark pads away and stops at the turn to the entryway of his room, looking back at the lump of the boy in his bed. Considers climbing into the large bed to make sure he doesn’t vomit and then choke to death in his sleep. 

Nah, he’s not  _that_ drunk. 

Considers sleeping in here anyway. 

Ultimately, he shakes the impulsive want away and leaves the room, closing the door quietly behind him. Theres a weird feeling swirling in his chest that he can’t explain. 

Too much orange juice, probably. 

-

Mark sits at his desk, editing his next episode of scary games. Usually he likes to sit back, relax, and enjoy editing for himself, but he feels antsy for some reason. His leg bounces as if he’s impatient. He feels like he might start to sweat. 

What is happening? 

Standing up, he takes a piss and then wanders out of his room. The house is quiet. It’s nearly 1AM, and now that the “new house” excitement has faded, everyone’s starting to head to sleep at normal times. His room is the furthest back, so he passes up nearly everyone’s rooms on the way down the hall. They all seem to be asleep. 

Pausing at the top of the stairs, he looks up to the third floor which holds the upper den and the master bedroom. Ethan’s bedroom. 

Why he climbs the stairs instead of going down to the kitchen for the water he intended on getting, he doesn’t know. 

Ethan’s door is cracked open. He still taps the door quietly just in case, then steps inside. His footsteps are silent with the carpeting. Ethan’s awake, sat on his floor under his desk. He seems to be organising his wires to make them look really nice. 

“Jesus!” The boy startles when the floor creaks, giving Mark’s position away. He looks up at him, hand over his heart, zip ties now scattered all over the place since he dropped the box of them in surprise. 

“Sorry. What’s up?” Mark asks, smirk making it obvious it was intentional. He plops down in Ethan’s chair and watches him pick up the zip ties. 

“Wasn’t tired so I’m just organising. I’m not even fully unpacked.” He returns to his work, tying wires together and placing them in clamps on the wall. 

“Me neither. I guess I’m still not used to the new room. Hard to sleep.” 

“At least your room is normal and not the size of three rooms.” Ethan scoffs incredulously, motioning around the master. Mark looks around. It is too big. Meant for a couple, really. Obvious by the double vanities and the two shower heads in the toilet. 

“It’s your own fault. You arrive last, you pick your room last.” He shrugs, spinning back and forth in the chair. Ethan finishes up his wires and leans back on his palms with a sigh. 

“Wanna..pull some pranks?” 

Mark looks away from the desktop wallpaper with a raised eyebrow. 

“What?”

“Well I assume you’re bored, and maybe doing some dumb shit will make this place feel more like home.” Ethan picks at the carpet, looking bashful. 

“What kind of pranks?” 

“This is stupid.” 

“Shh!” Ethan waves a hand at him, flashlight on the breaker box because of course the basement light doesn’t work. He finds the switch and shuts the power off. Giggling, he bounds back up the stairs quietly. Mark follows along, unable to contain his fond smile. Ethan’s a bit of a crackhead, but after a year of unus annus it’s not really surprising anymore. 

“Okay, come on. They’re gonna be scared as fuck.” Ethan rushes to the front door and opens it wide. There’s even a cool breeze flowing in, moving the curtains along the surrounding windows. It’s kind of the perfect scare. He then rings the doorbell three times, then does a rather impressive scream. 

As soon as a door opens upstairs, Ethan takes his arm and looks around, clearly not having planned where they’re going to hide. 

“Closet!” Mark whispers, pulling them both into the closet that sits between the living room and kitchen. There’s boxes piled up inside but there’s just enough room for them to fit. 

“Ethan?!” It’s Tyler’s voice. The boy giggles just a bit. There’s a ruckus as the rest of the house wakes up and stomps down the stairs. 

“He’s not in his room!” Pam calls from upstairs. For such a large house, the walls sure are paper thin. 

“Did someone take him?! Why aren’t these damn lights working?!” Tyler sounds relatively close, like they’re searching the house. 

“Mark’s gone too!” Kathryn calls. 

“Now what?” Mark asks just above a whisper. 

“Shh.” Ethan hushes him. 

“We don’t want to make them too worried—mmph.” The boy reaches up and covers his mouth, silencing him with a scowl. Mark frowns under his hand. He could easily pull him away but he just..doesn’t. Why, he doesn’t know. 

“I doubt someone could’ve taken both of them. Maybe Mark scared Ethan and then they snuck off.” Pam suggests. They sound closer now, like they’ve gathered in the living room. They don’t seem to be checking closets, thankfully. 

“Why would they sneak off?” Tyler asks. 

“To make out, duh. Why else do you sneak off?” Kathryn answers. Ethan waggles his eyebrows at him so Mark rolls his eyes. 

“They aren’t...are they?” Tyler asks, clearly not getting the joke. Ha ha, crankiplier. Hilarious. 

“You know, I think they might’ve at some point, or they’ve thought about it but never acted on it.” Pam says. They sound like they’ve completely moved on from the whole ‘missing Ethan’ thing and are now just having a conversation. Not a joke, apparently. 

“I always thought Ethan might like him but I never thought Mark might feel the same. Should we wait up and give them shit when they come back?” Tyler asks. 

Mark looks to Ethan to give him a surprised look. Surely they know they’re listening in and are taking the piss, right? Right? 

Ethan isn’t looking at him. He’s looking down at the crack at the bottom of the door. His hand slowly drops from Mark’s mouth. God, he can’t imagine how awkward it would be to fancy one of his closest friends. It would be so weird. It would ruin a friendship if it wasn’t mutual. 

“Well, I’m going back to bed. It’s too dark in here and I gotta wake up early.” Kathryn says with a yawn. 

Then within a minute they’re alone. 

“I thought we were going to scare them?” Mark whispers. 

“Timing was never right. Instead, let’s pretend none of this ever happened when they ask tomorrow and then try again or something.” Ethan abruptly steps out of the closet, and the slight squeaks of the stairs are heard right after. Mark stands in the small space and wonders why his stomach is fluttering. 

-

”I have to tell you something.” Ethan says, crawling onto the couch with him. Mark glances over with a smile. 

“Go ahead.” 

“I want you.” The boy murmurs darkly, then he’s crawling on top of him, hands running up his chest—

Mark sits up with a gasp, sweating like a dog and fucking hard as a rock. 

He climbs out of bed and takes the coldest shower he can handle, heart rate taking forever to calm down. He’s never had a wet dream about one of his friends. It’s fucking weird. Weird to think of someone he’s close to in that way. Especially when he’s probably meant to think of him as a younger brother. Which he is. Younger. Quite younger, actually. As in the boy was in middle school when he was starting college. Now that’s a weird ass thought. 

Not only all of that, but he’s Ethan. A wet dream doesn’t mean anything. He can’t control his dreams. He’s had weird wet dreams before, it doesn’t mean there’s anything there. 

And most importantly, he’s definitely a dude, and Mark is very much straight.

By the end of his shower, he can’t help but feel like no amount of scrubbing will get that picture out of his head. Ethan. Straddling his lap. Slowly removing his shirt. Blue eyes peeking through his eyelashes. 

-

His leg is bouncing again. 

He’s only just gotten dressed after his shower, and his legs are sore from the run he just went on, and yet they’re bouncing. Why is he so restless? Is it because every time he blinks he remembers his dream? Surely not. Surely he’s just tired or something. 

He’s not one to cook outside of the microwave, but he’s in dire need of a distraction, and it’s hard to mess up a simple quesadilla. Only, when he’s finished, he finds that he’s not even hungry. He just wanted to do something with his hands. 

He hasn’t seen Ethan yet since his dream. 

Plate of quesadilla in his hands, he’s climbing the stairs before he can even reconsider what he’s doing. He doesn’t even fucking knock, just barging right into the boy’s room. 

He’s streaming. 

“Hungry?” Mark asks, feeling wild for no particular reason. Ethan covers his mouth in surprise as Mark sets the plate down. 

“What? Oh my god, thank you!” He says, looking near emotional, “I told you guys he loves me! Aw, Mark!” He makes grabby hands like he wants a hug, doing his baby voice. Mark’s stomach flips. He’s wearing blue today, making his eyes very close to the blue from his dream. 

“Shut up, it’s just extra from my dinner.” Mark blatantly lies, unable to contain his grin at Ethan’s antics anyway. 

“Thank you!” Ethan calls between giggles as Mark walks out of the room. 

As soon as he’s back in his own, he pulls up Ethan’s stream. The boy is taking a bite, cheeks pink and he’s smiling goofily. The entire chat is just streams of “crankiplier away!!” Or heart emoji spam. 

Mark leans back on his bed and closes the stream. Ugh, what is wrong with him? 

-

Something’s off. 

It’s not awkward, per say. It’s just different between the two of them. Only really noticeable when they’re alone. It’s like there’s something hanging in the air that’s not being said. Or maybe it’s just the fact that Mark doesn’t realise he’s staring until Ethan asks why he’s staring. 

“What?” Mark blinks out of his daze. It’s been a long week since his dream, and he finds it hard to sleep since then, always scared it’ll happen again. 

“I said why are you staring? Are you okay? You seem like you dazed off.” Ethan replies, narrowing his eyes at him, fingers suspended above the keys of his laptop. Mark shifts his position, feeling weird under the boy’s piercing gaze. 

“I was just thinking about...unus annus.” Mark says. It’s definitely not just because Ethan’s wearing the founders hoodie and it’s all he could think of last minute. Pam snorts from the recliner, and she’s giving Mark a knowing look when he glances over. Ethan doesn’t seem to notice this exchange, sighing as he pulls his sleeves over his hands like he’s cold, head back to look at the ceiling. 

Mark’s fingers twitch, instinctively wanting to give him the throw blanket over the back of the couch, but that would be weird. It’d be weird, right? He’s not domestic like that. Or is it weird that he thinks it could be weird? 

“I miss it. I still think we should do a sequel channel.” The boy says, arms crossing. He shivers a bit, and Mark can’t resist anymore. He grabs the throw blanket and tosses it onto the boy’s legs. Ethan mumbles a thank you and spreads the blanket over himself with a pleased smile. Mark peeks over to Pam who’s looking back at her book, but she’s smirking like she’s just knows. 

“What would the sequel even be? I feel like anything we try would just ruin the whole thing.” Mark rambles on, not really even fully paying attention to the conversation, mind racing with memories of his dreams as his eyes rake over Ethan’s exposed neck. 

“Well I don’t know. We could just record regular things together. You know, I’ve been wanting to do another asmr cooking video. Wanna record for me?” 

For some reason, Mark finds it very hard to say no to him these days. 

-

“Welcome back to asmr cooking. Today I’ll be doing a recipe that we all know and love..chocolate chip brownies.” Ethan whispers into his mic. Mark holds the camera steady, zooming in when necessary. They’re the only ones awake again, but they figured it needed to be quiet in the house for an asmr video, and the only time this house is quiet is at nighttime. 

So, midnight recording it is. 

Ethan’s pretty hilarious, doing his usual goofs as he prepares the batter. It’s a rather short recipe, but Mark made it interesting by giving him way too much of everything. By the end there will probably be enough brownies for the entire neighbourhood. 

“Now, make sure you don’t add too much flour, or it will—“ Ethan makes a probably too loud noise when a chunk of flour plops into the batter, sending white powder all over the fucking place in every direction, including on Mark. 

“Prototype Cloak, dude!” Mark whines, trying to keep the camera steady as he wipes the flour from his hoodie. 

“Shh! Asmr!” Ethan whispers, barely audible. He grins like it’s a challenge. 

Okay then. 

Mark picks up the small bit of flour from the counter and flicks it at him. It’s all it takes. The camera is sat gingerly down and then there’s ingredients flying all over the kitchen. They laugh far too loud for how late it is, and it comes to an end when Ethan accidentally knocks over the entire carton of eggs. In his haste to not let the mess happen, he abruptly falls right onto his ass and completely fails at saving the eggs. 

Mark rounds the counter, worry spiking, but then he laughs when he sees the boy didn’t crack his head open on the tile, but he’s just laying there covered in raw egg and flour. 

“Leave me to die.” He sighs dramatically. Mark chuckles and offers him a hand to help him up, but Ethan just uses that to pull him down as well, both of them slipping all over the place in the raw egg. 

When Mark has the boy pinned, he takes the bowl of batter and dips a finger into it, then holds it at Ethan’s lips like he’s gonna waterboard him but with brownie batter. 

“Admit it, I’m stronger than...” his words die down, his grin faltering, when Ethan just straight up takes his finger into his mouth, sucking the batter from his finger. Though he seems to be blushing, he doesn’t break their eye contact for even a second. 

There’s that saying. Never eat a banana while maintaining eye contact. It’s a saying for a reason, but Ethan doesn’t seem to give a shit. 

Mark’s heart begins to race, and once his finger is clean he has no reason to keep them inside of Ethan’s mouth. 

And of course his brain decides that must mean he needs to dip two fingers in this time. 

Ethan’s eyes are lidded as he sucks on his fingers. What is happening? What is actually happening? Mark can’t look away. Not from the boy’s dilated eyes that bore into his own, or the way his lipswrap around his fingers. The way he’s sucking so tightly. 

“What the hell happened?” 

Mark pulls his fingers away and he’s off of Ethan and stood up just as Tyler rounds the corner to fully step into the kitchen. He must’ve seen the mess on the counter, but he looks even more surprised by the mess on the floor, which makes sense. 

“Baking! Which, um, turned into a food fight. I should shower. I need to shower and then I’ll help clean.” Mark rambles on like a mad man, then he leaves the room without another look at either of them. 

In the shower, he eventually gives in and wraps a hand around himself. As he gets off, he genuinely finds himself incapable of imagining anything apart from Ethan. Fingers in his mouth, cheeks sucked in, eyes right on his own. 

God. What the fuck. 

-

They don’t talk about it. 

It’s expected, obviously. Sucking your mate’s fingers in the kitchen at midnight isn’t really a favourable topic for any straight guys, so they just don’t talk about it. Really, Mark kind of wonders if Ethan just forgot about it. He seems so normal. So regularly himself despite what happened. It’s almost unfair. How Mark is having a midlife crisis over this and Ethan just plays animal crossing on stream and doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest. 

It’s strange, because Mark can hear when something exciting happens from across the house in his own room since the walls are so paper thin, and then he sees what actually happened thirty seconds later with the delay of the stream. He should probably be working, but he’s watching instead. Ethan had politely asked everyone if they could not disturb him today while he’s streaming, but it only makes Mark want to disturb him. Really want. 

He’s climbing the stairs before he can convince himself otherwise. 

He figures he’ll go about it sneakily. He quietly enters Ethan’s room and walks as silently as he can over to his bed. If Ethan notices, he doesn’t say anything. Mark climbs into the bed and pulls the duvet over himself. Just his lower half is in frame of the stream, and though he can’t read it from here, he can see the amount of spamming that’s happening in the chat. 

Ethan never addresses it, just continuing to play as normal. Mark, on the other hand, can’t help but notice how much his pillows smell like him. It’s really nice. His eyes slip closed. 

-

“Are you two actually fucking?” 

Mark blinks himself awake, squinting at the bright sun shining on him through Ethan’s big ass windows. 

Wait what? 

“Ugh, I fell asleep here. Meant to just stay for the stream.” Mark mumbles in reply to Tyler, who’s standing with his arms crossed like a disappointed dad or something. It’s nearing 7AM. Usually Mark’s on his run by now. 

“Well Ethan left about ten minutes ago for his meeting. You have your member stream today, don’t forget.” He moves to leave. Right, it’s Monday. 

“Wait, where did he sleep? I didn’t mean to steal his bed.” Mark asks. Tyler turns back with a raised eyebrow. 

“Um, did you get high or something? When I came in this morning you were holding onto him like some sort of weird couple cuddle session. Hey, it’s unexpected, but I support you two.” 

“Wha—we’re not—fuck off!” Mark tosses a pillow at his back as he leaves the room chuckling. 

When he’s alone, he flops back onto the bed, unsure what the feeling swirling around in his chest is. God, did he really fucking cuddle Ethan last night? The weirdly sexual tension was one thing, but cuddling? That’s feelings shit. That’s just a bit too far. Is Ethan freaked? Or is Mark overreacting? 

He can’t keep letting this weird shit happen. 

-

The first time Ethan says it, only a mere two days has passed. 

They haven’t talked about any of the weirdness that’s hanging in the air between them yet, which is fine for Mark. It’s a conversation that he wouldn’t even know how to have anyway. Ethan’s his regular self, so nothing is happening, right? 

Then it happens. 

Mark’s making a microwaveable meal for lunch and taking peeks over the island at Ethan who sits alone in the living room editing on his laptop. 

“Hey, can you do me a favour and refill my water?” Ethan calls. Mark’s already walking across the room to take the bottle before he’s even finished asking. Like some puppy dog or something. He scrolls mindlessly through twitter while he brings the now full water bottle back to the boy. 

“Thanks, daddy.” Ethan says innocently as he takes the bottle from him and takes a few gulps. 

Mark fumbles terribly, his phone slipping out of his hand and onto the floor. His heart pounds in his chest as he bends over to pick it up, looking at Ethan with wide eyes once it’s in his hand again. 

“What?” He asks, voice three octaves higher than normal. 

Ethan just continues editing as if nothing was even fucking said. The only tell that he actually said it is the pink blush over his cheeks giving him away. Mark sucks in a breath and walks back to the kitchen. 

His heart doesn’t slow for at least an hour, and Ethan hums while he edits as if he didn’t just change the entire damn game. 

-

Whatever the game even is, Mark can’t help but feel like he’s losing. Especially after the  _Great Hot Tub Incident of November_ that happens literally the very next day. 

He can’t remember who suggested it, but apparently being in a hot tub while it’s cold outside feels really nice, so they all take some time off and heat the thing up. After nearly two months of living in this house, it’s a shame they haven’t used the hot tub yet. 

“I’m cold.” Pam whines, thin towel hardly saving her from the chilly air as a cold breeze drifts around them. Kathryn fiddles with the dials on the tub and it comes to life, the sound loud in the quiet morning. They cheer and then everyone piles in. 

Ethan sits next to him. 

For the first thirty minutes, nothing happens. Everything is normal. They pass around warm apple cider to go with it and chat about their thanksgiving and Christmas plans. They crack jokes. They splash each other. 

The jets bubbling up the water make it impossible to see under the surface, which is why it’s startling when Mark feels nimble fingers take his hand under the water. 

He looks over to Ethan. The boy is literally mid conversation with Tyler, but he subtly guides Mark’s hand to his lap, then settles it on his thigh, his swim shorts already hiked up like he planned it. 

For a few seconds, Mark sits in disbelief and utter panic, eyes flitting to everyone sitting literal feet away, but nobody notices. Ethan and Tyler stop talking and everyone starts to listen to Pam’s outrageous story about some party she went to as a playboy bunny. 

So..Mark does what he thinks Ethan wants. He rubs his hand over the boy’s thigh, wondering if the water is making it so soft, before he comes to the sudden realisation that he’s shaved his fucking legs. He halts all of his movements, hand stilling over Ethan’s mid thigh. 

“We should rekindle our mario kart series.” Ethan suddenly says to him, quietly mindful of the story being told but just deciding to start a regular conversation as if he didn’t call Mark daddy and is now having him touch his clean shaven legs in less than a day’s time apart. 

“Y-yeah. That’d be cool.” Mark says, eyes meeting his. He’s never seen Ethan be so outlandishly confident before. Sure, there’s still the pink in his cheeks, but his stare doesn’t falter, and his hand under the water guides Mark’s hand higher up his thigh all while staring at him. 

“I feel like I haven’t played anything on the switch but animal crossing in like, a year. We could bring back the goo jokes.” Ethan stops guiding his hand just as he reaches untouched territory. He tilts his head at him like he’s letting him decide what to do. Mark clears his throat, considers moving his hand. 

Except..he doesn’t want to lose whatever this fucked up game is meant to be. Chicken? Are they really playing gay chicken? Is that what this is? 

Mark is known by many things, but a loser is not one of them. 

He squeezes Ethan’s inner thigh with his whole hand. Hard. The boy’s eyelashes flutter, his throat visibly moving as he gulps. 

“You love those stupid goo jokes, huh?” Mark asks, desperate to take control. To put aside whatever is holding him back and beat Ethan at his own game. 

“Yeah.” Ethan breathes, then he suddenly lifts his hips so then Mark’s hand falls onto his crotch. He’s hard. 

Mark’s never felt another dudes dick in his life, not like this. He’s slapped others in the dick as pranks, or brushed against the front of their pants accidentally. This? This is extremely different. This is literally just him petting over Ethan’s dick with his thumb, only separated by his thin swim shorts, all while the boy casually asks about when they should record stupid mario kart. The only thing that makes it obvious is the way his eyes dilate. The way his jaw clenches when Mark pets over his head with his thumb. 

Where do they go from here? 

“Tomorrow night? I don’t have plans.” Mark asks, feeling mad with power. One of Ethan’s hands lift out of the water and settles casually on the lip of the tub, but his knuckles are white with how tightly he’s holding on. He glances around the tub. Everyone’s having their own conversations, completely unaware to what’s happening in the same damn pool of water as them. It’s weirdly exhilarating. The high chance of being caught. Fucking hell. What is happening?

“Let’s do it in your room. I’ll come around 8.” Mark says very deliberately. 

“You’ll come?” Ethan asks, eyes having a hard time staying open. His neutral expression faltering, his eyebrows starting to knit together. He’s close. 

“Yes, I’ll come.” Mark murmurs, then he pulls his hand away completely. Ethan relaxes with a staggering breath, eyes like a deer in headlights as he watches Mark move to stand up. 

“See you then. I’m gonna shower and record for a bit.” He climbs out of the tub and doesn’t look back to see Ethan’s shocked face. To stop touching him just when he’s on the brink, he’s mad with power. He can only imagine how the boy feels. Does he finish himself off right there with everyone around? Or does he try to sneak off without them noticing his boner? Or does he bring himself down from the high and try to make himself soft? 

Either decision, he doesn’t get the satisfaction he wants. 

While Mark doesn’t fully understand the game they’re playing, he can’t help but feel like he’s won this time. He finds it hard to imagine Ethan can get back in the lead now. 

Right? 

-

Ethan’s wearing lingerie. 

Immediately, Mark’s thrown off his entire game and he’s forgotten literally every plan he had to stay on top. All because when he knocks on Ethan’s door to record mario, he’s greeted with thigh highs that are connected to some lace silky little black knickers with a buckle garter. Mark stands dumbfounded in the doorway until Ethan sighs and pulls him in enough to lock the door, then he casually walks across his big ass room to the set up. 

On his top half, the half that will actually be on camera, he’s just wearing a regular hoodie. One of his soft boi hoodies. The yellow one. 

Fucking hell. 

“C’mon, I wanna make sure we record enough for both of our channels.” Ethan says from his perch in his chair as if nothing is out of the ordinary. 

Mark’s never been one for lingerie. He’s never been that weird dude who can only get turned on by weird skimpy clothing. 

But Ethan is just. Well, he’s breathtaking. Literally. Mark can’t fucking breathe. 

He’s still standing stupidly in front of the door when Ethan stands back up, setting down his switch and stepping back up to him. His black thigh highs are a stark contrast to the pearl carpet colour. 

He stops in front of him, close enough that he can feel the boy’s body heat. For a moment, they just stand there, not touching. Just looking at each other. 

Then, with an incredibly shaky exhale, Mark lifts his hand and places it on Ethan’s hip, over the silk. He runs his fingers over the lace waistband, then down over his hairless thigh to the top of the thigh highs. Circling his fingers around the garter, he yanks it up, testing the buckle strength. Ethan gasps, hand steadying himself on Mark’s shoulder. 

Then, Mark places both of his hands on Ethan’s hips and presses him roughly against the wall. It must hurt a bit. The boy makes a sound high in his throat that makes Mark want to stay in this moment forever. 

Leaning in close, he runs his hands over the lingerie, feeling the way the knicker line cuts into the boy’s arsecheek. Fuck. 

Their lips brush, and Ethan’s eyes slipped closed. He wants it. He wants to kiss him. Are they still playing the game? Is this him seeing how far Mark will go? 

Doesn’t he know Mark hates to lose? 

Instead of kissing him, he dips his chin and sinks his teeth right into Ethan’s neck. He’s never understood the appeal of hickeys. In fact, they’ve both talked about how they don’t get it in a video together. And yet, the sound he makes when he’s being bitten is hotter than any porn video Mark’s seen in his life. 

Ethan gets handsy, maybe a little desperate, fingers digging into his shoulder and hair, so Mark takes his wrists and pins him against the wall so he can’t move. Restricting him. 

“Fuck, p-please.” Ethan moans, and it’s like ice water being poured down his neck. 

Mark pulls completely away, stumbling against the opposite wall just a few feet away. They still hadn’t left his little entryway. 

Ethan grips onto the wall and his shirt, eyes wide, breathing laboured, an obvious tent in his fucking lingerie. 

Is this still the game? At what point is it too far? There’s already a mark forming on Ethan’s neck. It’ll be hard to hide without makeup or a turtleneck. 

“Fuck..fuck.” Mark chokes, then he reaches for the door, twisting the lock and getting the hell out. He somehow makes it to his own room without being seen. Once there, he goes to the balcony and steps out into the cold, pressing his forehead to the freezing guard rail as he forces himself to breathe. 

They almost kissed. Is that the point that’s too far? Kissing? It seems weird, after touching his friends dick and having him suck his fingers, kissing is too far? 

Unless it’s not, and Mark is overthinking this whole situation. Maybe Ethan isn’t taking this seriously. Maybe he’s fucking annihilating Mark at this chaotic game of gay chicken. 

After what they’ve already done, surely kissing isn’t the breaking point. If it is, that would mean the initiator would win, right? The point of chicken is to see who breaks first. 

Mark can’t lose. He just can’t. 

-

He gives it a few days. Working his ass off, he pumps out tons of recordings on his own. He then edits most of them before Lixian even messages about it. Hard work or just a distraction, what’s the difference anyway? 

Then, he catches him when he doesn’t expect it. 

He arrives to dinner late. Dinner is just delivered Taco Bell, but it’s dinner all the same. Everyone sits at the dining table loudly arguing about whether or not Luigi is gay or something. 

Ethan doesn’t seem to expect any chicken games today. He’s dressed in an oversized sweater and joggers, his hair frizzy over his forehead in a fringe. He’s rather cute. Nearly distracting from the hickey that’s now a big ass purple mark. Despite receiving countless shit for the last few days, he hasn’t told who gave him it. 

He sends Mark a smile as the man sits across from him. It’s weird. To pretend like they’re how they’ve always been, when Mark can’t even remember those days. Can’t remember what it was like to not think about his close friend all fucking day. Is that a bad thing, really? Who knows. 

He waits patiently, watching as Ethan drinks at his water. Any minute now. 

“Anyone need refills?” He asks, standing up with his empty glass. 

“Sprite, please!” Kathryn hands over her cup. Ethan leaves for the kitchen. Mark waits about five seconds. 

“Oops, I needed one.” He says, and grabs his cup before anyone can notice it was never filled in the first place. 

In the kitchen, away from the noise, Ethan is bent over the fridge, taking the sprite bottle out. 

Mark wants to do this perfectly. He refuses to mess this one up. 

Stepping up behind him, he sets down his cup on the counter, the noise loud and obvious in here. 

Ethan doesn’t even jump. He pauses his movements, then sets the sprite onto the floor and stands up, shutting the fridge. His back fits pretty well against Mark’s front. Like a puzzle piece falling into place. 

Mark runs his hand up Ethan’s hips, then slide under his sweater, settling on his waist. He can feel the boy’s heartbeat under his hands. 

Then, he spins him around, and before the boy even has time to blink, he slides his hands under his thighs and lifts him right up onto the counter. Ethan gasps, hands grabbing onto his shoulders in surprise. He recovers, and wraps his legs around Mark’s waist, tongue darting out like he knows what’s going to happen. 

Only, it’s not right. Ethan thinks this is going to be some dirty kissing. He’s drastically wrong, but Mark will gladly just show him. 

He meets Ethan’s eyes as he leans in, and cups his cheek with his hand. With his other free one, he tangles his fingers with Ethan’s and presses their clasped hands up against the cabinet. 

Ethan looks weirdly nervous, maybe. It makes sense. Mark’s leaning in slowly. Lovingly. He wants to change the game. He wants to take it five steps further. No doubt this will make Ethan lose. No doubt at all. 

Their lips press together softly. Ethan’s free hand slides into his hair as the kiss gently deepens. 

The kiss is slow. Passionate. Far from dirty booty call shit. Somewhere in there, Mark forgets his original plan to pull away early and leave him alone for the rest of the night. 

Instead, he snogs him against the counter as if he’ll never kiss another person in his life. 

Then, he pulls away, but he stays right there, thumb swiping over Ethan’s cheek, lips pressing gentle kisses to his jaw. 

“ _Mark_.” Ethan whispers, cheeks pink, voice far from the desperate begging from the few days earlier. This time, he sounds emotional. He sounds like he’s asking for something. Something beyond this weird game of gay chicken. 

Or maybe Mark’s reading to far into it. He isn’t 100% sure either way. 

“We out of sprite?” Pam calls from the dining room. Right. How long have they been in here? 

Mark leans away and meets his eyes, lifting their joined hands to press a sweet kiss to Ethan’s, before he pulls completely away, taking the sprite and the cups as he goes. Ethan sits on the counter with a torn expression, lip between his teeth and eyebrows furrowed like he’s confused. 

“Personally, I don’t think Luigi is gay.” Mark says when he returns to the table, setting down the drinks. 

“Traitor!” Pam cries, and the argument gets loud again, effectively distracting any ounce of suspicion any of them might have had about their disappearance. 

When Ethan comes back to the dining room, he’s pretty quiet for the rest of the meal, and not once does he meet Mark’s eyes. 

One point for Mark. He’s finally in the lead. 

-

“Fuck, yeah, fuck me.” Ethan moans, mouth agape as he clutches onto the sheets. 

Mark slams into him over and over, and then he comes with a shout. Ethan takes his hand with a smile. 

“I love you, Mark.” —

Waking up with a gasp, Mark finds he’s got wet briefs and a pounding heart. He climbs out of bed and heads to the toilet, changing into a fresh pair of underwear. 

Half asleep, he leaves the bathroom and walks right up the stairs to Ethan’s room, rather than take the ten feet back to his own. 

It’s nearly 5AM. There’s barely a visible amount of blue showing between the tree branches outside. The sun’s hardly started to rise. Ethan’s curled up in a ball in the centre of his bed. 

Mark climbs in and pulls the boy into his arms. He whines as he wakes up, and rubs his eyes, looking up at Mark through his sleepy gaze. He’s adorable as hell. 

“Mmm.” Ethan hums happily, then cuddles up against him, pressing a kiss to his collarbone. 

Mark holds him and watches the sun rise. Ethan sleeps for thirty more minutes, before he actually wakes up, blinking at the soft sunlight falling on his face through the windows. His eyes are red rimmed in the mornings, causing them to look more green. 

Is this still the game? 

Ethan blinks at him slowly, still not fully awake, then he smiles and leans forward for a kiss. 

Mark complies, kissing him much like he did last night. Only now, they’re laying together. In a bed. Behind a closed door. 

Suddenly, Ethan sits up and swings his legs over his torso, straddling him. 

It strongly resembles that first dream he had. Mark runs his hands up the boy’s silky smooth legs and tries to breathe normally. Ethan then starts to grind down onto him, hips moving like magic. Mark gulps as he’s ground onto. Their two layers of briefs are hardly stopping the friction. It’s good. 

“Want..” Ethan starts in a whisper, then he makes a breathy sound and doesn’t finish the thought. 

“Tell me.” Mark whispers back. 

“I-it’s—“ 

“ _Tell me_ , baby.” Mark says like it’s an order, voice going gravelly. Ethan’s hands clutch into his shirt like he can’t even handle it. 

“W-wanna suck you off.” 

“Ask nicely.” Mark says darkly, and wonders if this is too far. If it’ll ever get to a point where it’s too far. 

That point is not here. Definitely not here. 

Ethan bites his lip and lowers his head like he’s submitting for him. God. What the fuck. 

“Please, daddy, p-please.” Ethan asks breathily, understanding exactly what Mark is asking for without him having to clarify. 

“Go ‘head.” Mark mumbles, heart racing as Ethan immediately vanishes under the duvet and starts to desperately pull down his briefs. 

Then everything is very warm and very wet. Mark closes his eyes, chin tipping up as Ethan sucks him off as if he’s fucking hungry for it or something. 

He reaches down and yanks off the covers, wanting to see this, and the view is definitely worth it. Ethan’s lips stretched around him, eyes looking up into his, knees bent under himself, arse up in the air. Fuck. He’s beautiful. 

Mark reaches down and runs a hand through his hair. Ethan presses up into it and hums around his cock like a fucking cat or something. 

There’s a knock at the door. Ethan doesn’t stop. 

“Yeah?!” Mark calls, hoping his voice doesn’t sound like shit. 

“Thought you might be in there! Can I come in? I need to show Ethan something.” Tyler calls. 

The boy in question circles a hand around the base of his dick to squeeze at what he can’t reach, matching the rhythm of his mouth. Mark tries to take a deep breath, wanting to tell him to stop, but it feels too damn good to consider that option. 

“Come back in an hour, he’s in the shower!” Mark calls back. 

“I don’t hear it running?” Tyler says, voice suspicious. He tries the door, but thankfully Mark locked it. 

“Just come back later!” Mark says, a little on the angry side. He doesn’t know if Tyler leaves or not after that because he’s too busy having a mind blowingly good orgasm, biting into a pillow to hide his moans. 

-

The game has changed. 

Obviously. Of course it would change after what’s happened. But now, Mark’s left wondering when they  _aren’t_ playing the game. 

Ethan will hold his hand under the blankets while they all watch a movie, or he’ll give him little shy smiles over the dining table while they eat, and at night he’ll kiss over Mark’s surgery scar and leave goosebumps all over his body. 

It’s fucked. It’s not bad, though. Quite the opposite, actually. Mark’s never felt so invigorated in his life. Whether it’s the game, the sneaking around, or the actual acts themselves, he’s never felt more motivated and inspired in all aspects like this. Not just with Ethan. He doesn’t just spend time wondering how to make Ethan’s cheeks pink every day. He also finds himself working harder on the videos. On writing. On Korean. On working out. To the point where he picks up guitar again. 

Was it really just a lack of physical contact that made him buffer for this long? Or is it specifically Ethan? 

It’s almost like he has feelings. Which he doesn’t. Because it’s just a game or something. Just keeping score to see who breaks the bubble first. 

At some point it stopped feeling like a bubble, and more like a rainbow on a cloudy day, and Mark has no clue when it changed for him, or even what exactly it changed to. 

In the end, he’s too busy having fun to worry about it too much. If something feels this right, surely it can’t do harm, right?

“This next big video should really give a more in depth look to how actor Mark and Wilford fell out, and I think...” he trails off as his phone buzzes. It’s a text from Ethan. 

‘I need you.’ 

And then:

‘Please.’ 

Mark swallows thickly and looks back to the chat. 

“Alright, I gotta go. Shit, I forgot about a meeting I have today. Um, I’ll stream longer next mixer, promise!” He ends the stream and rushes out of his room and right up to Ethan’s. The door is unlocked. He locks it behind himself and walks into the room, stomach turning at the sight. 

“The door was unlocked.” Mark says, approaching the bed. Ethan’s bent over with his arse up, and he’s got three wet fingers inside of himself, his face pressed into the sheets. 

“C-can’t reach. Please.” Ethan begs, voice airy. Mark steps up to the bed and places a hand on his lower back. Instantly, Ethan removes his fingers and presents himself. 

“Did you leave it unlocked so anyone could come in and help you out, Ethan?” Mark asks, picking up the bottle of lube and squeezing some onto his fingers. Ethan clutches his sheets in anticipation. 

“No, no.” Ethan swears, cheeks red against his white sheets. This is embarrassing for him. To be this desperate. 

Mark slides three fingers right into him. His fingers are bigger, so he stretches him out a bit more. He has a basic knowledge of anatomy. It’s not hard to figure out where the prostate sits. 

“Do you do this with everyone? Tyler? Kathryn? Pam?” Mark asks, surprising even himself with the dirty talk. He feels wild right now. Like he could say anything and Ethan would agree just to please him. 

“Just you, j-just you, daddy.” The boy mumbles messily. 

“Good.” Mark replies, then he curves his fingers and starts to massage his prostate. 

Ethan gets a bit too loud. The walls aren’t that thick here. When one of them is just doing a basic stream or recording, it can be heard from all the surrounding rooms. 

Mark wants to cover his mouth, but a bigger and darker side of him wants everyone to hear how much the boy is letting himself go. Just for him. 

“Please, I want you, I want you inside.” Ethan babbles, pressing back against his fingers. Mark takes a breath and quickens his pace. 

“You get what I’ll give you.” He says, and bends over Ethan’s back to kiss his shoulder as he comes. 

Mark leaves him to come down from his high and starts up the nice rain shower he’s got in his bathroom. 

Once Ethan stops shaking in the afterglow, he takes his hand and leads him into the shower, stepping in right along. 

He’s gently rubbing the soapy loofah over Ethan’s back when the boy finally says something. 

“You don’t want..me?” He asks, dancing around the exact question he’s trying to ask. It’s fine, though. Mark gets what he’s saying. It’s the first time he’s actually talked about the stuff they’re doing, and of course it’s him thinking Mark doesn’t want him. God. He’s still Ethan, even with this game of theirs. 

“It’s a big step. You should save it for someone you really trust. Someone you love.” Mark explains. His heart is beating really fast for some reason. He finds it hard to meet Ethan’s eyes, just focusing on washing him as if it’s such a hard task. 

“Don’t you love me?” Ethan asks, looking up at him with big sad eyes. Mark might pass the fuck out. 

“Yes. I mean the big love. You should save it for someone you’re in love with. It’s..I just mean..you shouldn’t waste your first time with a guy on this thing.” He motions between them, having a hard time getting exactly what he wants to say across. This is why he never brought anything up, because he doesn’t  _really_ know what to say.

Ethan looks down somewhere between them for a minute, then he steps under the water to rinse himself off. After, he steps out of the whole shower altogether, picking up a towel from the hook. 

“Ethan? Did I say something wrong?” Mark asks, loofah still covered in bubbles in his hand. 

“I just remembered I have somewhere to be.” Ethan replies without turning back around, then he’s gone out of the room. It’s weird. He’s being weird. Mark definitely said something wrong, but he doesn’t know what. 

He washes himself quickly, but by the time he makes it out of the bathroom, Ethan is gone. 

-

Mark fucked up. He doesn’t know how, he just knows he did. 

When Ethan had returned from whatever urgent thing he had, he barely looked at Mark and went right to recording, and for the last four damn days, he’s hardly said a full word to him. Always too busy to talk, working constantly or gone from the house all night. 

Mark wants to be pissed right back, but he just finds himself worried about him. Especially when he tries to apologise for whatever he did but Ethan isn’t home at 2AM. 

2AM. That’s pretty damn late to come home. He isn’t working out or at a meeting with a manager, that’s for sure. 

So Mark stays up, huddles in the chair in the corner of Ethan’s room in the pitch black like some sort of rebellious teenager’s parent. 

By the time Ethan comes staggering in, lips attached to some random dude, Mark is pissed off. 

He yanks the lamp on, and both boys look at him in surprise. 

“Leave.” Mark says to the guy, who starts to gather his shoes and coat with wide eyes. 

“He said he was single, I swear!” The guy says, then trips out of the room. Mark locks the door behind him and turns to Ethan with crossed arms. The boy sits on the edge of his bed in a ball of fury, face all mushed in a scowl. 

“Really? I tell you to save it for someone you love and you go pick up some stranger at 3AM?” 

“You can’t tell me what to do.” 

“You sure thought differently four fucking days ago.” 

Ethan’s hands ball up into fists. 

“You don’t own me!” He spits angrily. Mark rolls his eyes. 

“Obviously we were playing two different games, then.” Mark replies, stomach fuzzy with how wrong this feels. To fight. Especially when all he wants to do is scoop him up and fix whatever he did. 

“That’s exactly my point! It’s all just a fucking game for you!” Ethan’s volume is getting increasingly louder. 

“How can you give me shit for that?! You’re the one who started the game!” 

“It was never a game for me, you oblivious dickhead!” Ethan shouts, standing up on the bed. 

Mark stops, eyebrows furrowing. 

“What? Then what was it?” 

Ethan’s shoulders drop, and he sits back down cross legged, picking at the laces of his shoes, eyes on the floor. 

“It was never a game. I’ve wanted this for years. I’ve wanted you. Are you really going to stand there and say you didn’t notice?” 

The words make sense. They do. They have meaning and they radiate truth. Despite all of that, Mark can’t help but scan the room for a hidden camera. Years. That’s. 

That’s years. How many years? Before unus annus? Before tour? Shit, before the panel? Mark’s never been one to not notice to this extreme. 

Maybe he never noticed because he never thought Ethan could possibly feel the same. The same way he’s pushed back to the back of his mind. The same way that crushed him every time they lay together in his bed. Every time they kissed. Or even just brushed hands. God. Ethan wants him? 

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” Mark asks, this new information feeling like a slap to the face. He suddenly understands why Ethan is angry. The boy tried to share his first time with him and Mark pushed him away and basically told him everything they’ve done is meaningless. Fuck. 

“Are you serious? I haven’t had to verbally tell you anything for months now and you’ve known exactly every thing I want. Do you really take me for the type to fucking..get all submissive or whatever around any random dude I make out with?” Ethan seems really small right now. Not physically, but in every other meaning of the word. And Mark caused that. How can he be so blind? 

“Tell me.” Mark murmurs, stepping up to the bed and crouching down in front of him, taking his hands. 

“What?” Ethan plays dumb. He knows exactly what is being asked of him. 

“I want to hear the words.” 

“I love you, stupid. For quite some time now. Don’t know how everyone in the house figured it out before you—“ 

Mark shuts him up with a kiss, and it’s like coming back up for air after years underwater. Just a few days apart and Mark’s gone crazy. How was he so oblivious? Did he really think he and Ethan were having a casual gay chicken game amongst friends for months? 

“I love you too.” He replies once they pull away. Ethan giggles and lies back on the bed. Mark crawls over him and holds him close. They watch the leaves fall from the trees outside as they mumble incoherently to each other until they fall asleep wrapped up together like pretzels. 

-

Christmas Eve traffic is chaotic. Luckily, Mark still gets home all in one piece. The house is quiet. Nearly everyone had gone home for Christmas, but he and Ethan wanted to spend it together, seeing as they haven’t fully done it before, always having gone home for Christmas. 

“You’re cooking?” Mark asks, setting down the shopping bag to circle his arms around Ethan’s back. The boy is placing blueberries over a pie crust. 

“No, baking. Just a pie. Figured we should have at least one homemade thing amongst our Uber eats Christmas dinner tomorrow.” He grins. Mark chuckles and steps away to pick up the gift bag. 

“I know we said no surprises, but it’s technically a Christmas Eve gift, which we never said was off the table.” 

Ethan rolls his eyes with a smile and slides the pie into the oven before stepping over to the table, picking up the gift bag. 

He pulls the ribbon away and reaches inside, cheeks pinking when he holds up the red lingerie set that’s more mesh and lace than actual material. 

“I see. It’s a gift for both of us.” Ethan waggles his eyebrows. Mark grins, heart racing. 

“That’s not all.” 

Ethan peeks back into the bag and pulls out all of the wrapping tissue to find the box at the bottom. He opens it up, and pulls out the framed photo. 

“Our first selfie? How’d you—?”

“Had your dad dig it up. Took forever but he found it buried in one of your old hard drives. I know I’m not one for big gestures or anything and I know we remember this day with a cringe but I just...it’s the day we met. I don’t know where I’d be without you and I honestly don’t want to find out. I want to look back on this picture not as cringy but as the beginning. You’re..shit, was it something I said?” Mark chews on his lip nervously, watching Ethan wipe his tears as they fall. The boy shakes his head and sets down the photo, then pulls him in for a hug. 

“Its perfect. I love it. Ugh, I love you.” Ethan sniffles into his chest. Mark smiles and presses a kiss to his temple. He thought he’d feel homesick today, but he feels quite the opposite. 

Home is where the heart is, or whatever. 

“Go start the fireplace.” Ethan murmurs, then he picks up his new lingerie and bounces out of the room. Mark does exactly that, and sets up a nice blanket bundle on the floor. The fire is crackling as Mark looks out of the window and waits. It’s LA so it’s not snowing, but there seems to be a light misting of rain that would probably be snow if it were colder here. It’s nice, anyway. 

A throat is cleared behind him. Mark turns and suddenly can’t remember his own name. 

The red looks incredible on him. He tip toes across the living room bashfully, then sits down on the blankets in front of the fireplace, chewing on his lip as if he’s nervous. As if he looks anything less than mind numbingly gorgeous. 

“I’m wearing my smallest plug so it’ll be tight.” He says casually as if they’re discussing the weather. 

Mark peels off his sweater and sinks down to the floor, lips pressing to his right away. 

“You trying to make it quick?” He asks, fingers hooking under the lace of the lingerie and pulling it aside. He wasn’t lying. The plug is purple, the lip sticking out of his arse just begging to be moved. 

“No, just want it now.” Ethan watches him pull the plug out slowly, dropping it to the floor. To get to him fully, he’d have to remove the entire lingerie set, so instead, he just holds the fabric away from his hole and presses up against him. 

“Want what?” Mark asks even though he knows the answer. He presses his head against Ethan. A tease. The boy clutches the pillow under his head in anticipation, eyes on his. 

“You, daddy. Please.” He asks breathily, so sweetly. Mark isn’t one to deny him when he’s asking in such a pretty way. 

Besides, it’s like heaven when he slips inside of him. Tight. Extremely warm. Ethan’s chin tips back as he bottoms out, making the most amazing sounds. 

Mark fucks him slowly, lifting the boy’s leg over his own shoulder and holding it there, turning his head to press a kiss to his calf as he gets the angle just right. 

“G-god, feels so..fuck.” Ethan babbles, trying to keep looking at him, but his eyes keep fluttering closed every time Mark hits his prostate. 

“Love you so much, baby.” Mark says, kissing at his jawline. Ethan moans, fingernails digging into his shoulders. The pain hurts so fucking good. Mark’s hips stutter as he picks up the speed of his thrusts. 

“Love you, daddy—oh fuck.” His words break off into an airy moan, and then he’s fighting around him deliciously as he comes. 

Mark presses his lips to Ethan’s neck and follows soon after. 

He sits up, catching his breath, and walks to the kitchen, then returns with a dish towel and a glass of water. 

They clean up, sharing the water with giggles along the way, then they lie back onto the blanket and murmur to each other about their plans. Their aspirations. Their wants for the future and the present. They talk for hours. 

Holding his love, Mark watches the fire sizzle as it dies, and the blue start to appear around the trees outside the window. 

“Merry Christmas.” He says, lips to his boy’s temple, eyes on the ticking clock that’s sat on the mantle. It’s breaking dawn. 

“Merry Christmas.” Ethan replies, and Mark can feel him smile against his chest. He wants a million more Christmas’s just like this. A million more of every holiday with nobody else but him. He wants every day with him. For the rest of his life. It’s a strong feeling, but it’s not scary. He’s never felt more safe than right now, with Ethan’s breathing evening out right in his arms. They’ve only been “official” for about a month now, but he feels so strongly about this that he already knows how this picture will look a year from now. He already knows what he wants. Exactly what he plans to do. 

Next Christmas, he’ll give Ethan a ring. 

**Author's Note:**

> Leave any thoughts down below 💚


End file.
